


just a little taste

by daisyillusive (bluedreaming)



Series: Tulip Boys [1]
Category: EXO (Band), GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 14:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6157084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedreaming/pseuds/daisyillusive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seokjin has a special place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just a little taste

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lotusk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotusk/gifts).



> Title from [Pray For Rain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WMcEtKmBwxE) by Pure Bathing Culture.

 

Other people might not head out in the rain, take a subway full of dripping umbrellas and crying babies, wade through a sea of umbrellas just to almost get splashed by reckless morning commuters driving by, all to get a simple cup of coffee, but then again Seokjin has never defined his decisions by what other people do.

"Good morning!" he waves, as the automatic door swishes open and rain drips off the overhang into his collar, just as he's folding up his umbrella to poke it in the umbrella sleeve machine. Junmyeon is behind the espresso machine, all Seokjin can see is the white blond of his hair, but Jaebum is ringing up an order. Seokjin notes, as he lifts a hand to wave, that he's wearing the _KILLER MUFFINS_ apron.

 _I wonder which bet you lost?_ he wonders, as Jaebum narrows his eyes at Seokjin's expression. Seokjin ignores the frown, and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he hangs the handle of the umbrella over a chair and heads for the counter, glancing around the coffee shop. The glass of the display case is curved over shelves of fresh baking, cinnamon rolls, chocolate-filled croissants, madeleines and—the stars must be shining on him somewhere up above the cloud over fogging the city today—one last solitary canelé, sitting alone on a china plate.

The customer ahead of him finishes paying, and Seokjin steps up to the counter, mouth already watering.

"I'd ask what you'd like," Jaebum says, "but I think we both know the answer." He rings up the bill and Seokjin taps his card, slipping it back into his wallet and tucking it into his pocket.

"The last canelé," Seokjin says, voice emphatic, "is always mine." Jaebum gives him an unimpressed look, and shrugs.

"One of these days, someone will waltz in just before you and snag it," he says, offering Seokjin a receipt with the tip of his head; Seokjin declines with the slightest gesture of his chin and moves along the counter.

"That would be the end of the world," Junmyeon says behind the coffee machine, flashing Seokjin a grin as he sets a paper cup on the counter with the previous customer's drink. "I'd ask if you want it for here or to go, but. . ." His voice trails off in a laugh as he makes the shot, and Seokjin smiles at the joke, reaching for the wood tray, canelé enthroned on a square porcelain plate, his café au lait in a wide-mouthed cup on a pale pink saucer.

Beauty Is Terror runs across the front of his t-shirt today, tucked neatly into a navy pinstripe apron. Seokjin grins.

" _The Secret History_ today?" he asks, lifting the tray. "I still need to read that."

"You can borrow it from me any time," Junmyeon says, before turning back to make the next drink. Seokjin heads for his table, glancing at Kyungsoo, already tucked into his corner behind the potted fern. His black-rimmed glasses reflect lines of black text running across the screen of the computer in front of him, as his fingers clack away at the keys. Seokjin thinks about saying hello, but people who have a tendency to interrupt Kyungsoo mid-train-of-thought tend to also find themselves showing up in his books as victims.

He's barely seated at the table, taking the chair across from the one his umbrella is hanging from, first sip of the richness of coffee and milk filling his mouth as he watches the people walking on the sidewalk on the other side of the window, when a familiar figure sweeps in, shaking wet hair over the rug as he wipes his feet.

"Why is it raining?" Bambam says, frowning at the water dripping from the soaked legs of his jeans.

"Why did you forget to take an umbrella?" Seokjin says, taking a bite of canelé. The taste, as always, is exquisite.

"Jackson lent it to Namjoon yesterday and he broke it," Bambam says, giving his dripping pants up as a lost cause and heading for the counter. "Can I have a hot chocolate?" he asks Jaebum, who grumbles at the water Bambam is trailing behind him but still accepts the order.

Seokjin takes another sip of coffee and milk in the pause before Bambam lets out a loud complaint. "Hey Junmyeon! You can't let him charge me five dollars for a _drippage fee_!"

Junmyeon only laughs, and Bambam grumbles under his breath that he'll tell Jackson, but he pays the extra money. They all know that Jackson would only make him pay anyway, and frown at the extra whipped cream on the hot chocolate. Bambam collects his hot chocolate, his frown soon smoothing into a happy sigh as he takes his first sip; Seokjin laughs quietly to himself as he watches Bambam give Kyungsoo a wide berth on his way to his table. The last time Bambam annoyed Kyungsoo, he ended up being a grizzly murder victim in a string of serial killings.

“Seokjin!” Bambam grins as he flops into the chair across from him, hot chocolate splashing against the lid of his paper cup. Seokjin takes another bite of canelé before Bambam starts eying it.

“Home for a bit?” he asks. Bambam nods.

“I cleared my schedule and then Jackson went and got a big case,” he says, sticking out his bottom lip in a sulk. Seokjin reaches over to ruffle his hair, Bambam jerking his head back with a shriek even though his hair is already flattened by the rain, dripping in rivulets over his forehead as he brushes them away with a sleeve.

“You’re already soaked,” he says, laughing at Bambam who only looks at him, feathers ruffled. “I’ll make you some muffins,” he adds, just to see his face light up.

“Hey!” Jaebum calls across the shop. “No advertising outside merchandise!” Junmyeon’s laugh rises and falls behind the counter and Bambam just sticks out his tongue.

“Are you working on a new blog post?” he asks, ears perking up. Bambam always likes to try out the new experiments whenever he’s around, and it feels like old times, Bambam perched on the counter in Seokjin’s mom’s house, fingers covered in stolen batter as Seokjin mixed things and Myungsoo took photographs of everything.

“Maybe,” Seokjin says, shrugging as he finishes the canelé, savouring the last bite. “Right now it’s just wisps of something. Having you around will be helpful to poke samples at.” He closes his mouth as soon as he realizes what he just said, but it’s too late; Bambam’s eyes have that calculating expression again.

“I know someone. . .” he starts to say, but Seokjin waves his hand.

“I’m not against meeting someone,” he says, for the umpteenth time, pausing to sip from his cup, “but I’m not really looking, so no, but thank you.” And it’s true. Seokjin has his friends, the coffee shop, and his readers; his life isn’t lacking anything.

“Fine,” Bambam says, huffing into his hot chocolate, but Seokjin knows he means well. Looking around the coffee shop, the bright colours, the way Jaebum is hiding a smile behind a cream-cheese-frosted carrot cupcake, Junmyeon emerging from the kitchen with a tray of French macarons, Seokjin knows why he’s never talked about _The Daily Muffin_ on his blog. It’s the same reason he always comes back here, braving hell and high water.

The automatic door slides open, and Jongin walks in, waving at Seokjin before he heads for the counter. There’s a smudge of oil pastel on his cheek, and Junmyeon reaches over the coffee machine to poke at it as Bambam giggles and Seokjin tips his cup, draining it to the last drop.

Some places are special.  
>

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://writetomyheart.livejournal.com/485062.html) for shiritori.


End file.
